


Presume Not That I Am the Thing I Was

by Emrys MK (mk_malfoy)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Language, Lucius Malfoy/Ron Weasley - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1822543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Emrys%20MK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an angry Ron abandoned Harry and Hermione, leaving them to search for the remaining Horcruxes on their own, he couldn’t possibly have known what the consequences of that decision would be or how it would forever change his and Severus Snape's lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presume Not That I Am the Thing I Was

**Title:** Presume Not That I Am the Thing I Was  
**Author:** Emrys MK  
**Pairing(s)/Characters:** Severus Snape/Ron Weasley (non-con), Lucius Malfoy/Ron Weasley (non-con), Greyback  
**Summary:** When an angry Ron abandoned Harry and Hermione, leaving them to search for the remaining Horcruxes on their own, he couldn’t possibly have known what the consequences of that decision would be or how it would forever change his and Severus Snape's lives.  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word count:** 10,600  
**Warnings:** graphic non-con, violence, masturbation, molestation, foreign-object penetration, foul language  
**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
**Date Written:** July 2010 was when I wrote most of this story (It was to be my Ron Big Bang entry but I didn’t finish it in time, so I set it aside and never posted it. I added to it June 07-20, 2014 and decided to post it.  
**Author notes:** Please heed the warnings. This is not an easy story to read, but I am extremely proud of how it turned out. A huge thank you to vix_spes for the beta. The title is taken from Henry IV by William Shakespeare.

  
**~*~ Presume Not That I Am the Thing I Was ~*~**  


**02 May 1998**  


_"I will find you, Mister Weasley, no matter where you go.”_

“No!” Ron willed himself to wake and forced his eyes open. Where was he? He sat up, frantically looking around, but he couldn’t see—whether because he was blind or because it was pitch black outside, he couldn’t tell. Was this part of the dream? He couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he was breathing so hard and his heart beating so fast that he felt as if his lungs and heart were about to burst forth from his chest. Rivulets of perspiration ran down his face and back.

As his breathing began to even out, his eyes slowly began to acclimate, revealing that he was in Gryffindor tower. He sighed in relief. He was no longer dreaming—he could relax—no one was coming to find him. He was back in a bed he was familiar with.

As relieved as he was to be at Hogwarts and not wandering aimlessly, attempting to find Harry and Hermione, his current situation began to become clearer and Ron remembered that he should be at the Burrow with his family, mourning the loss of Fred, but, because Harry was staying at Hogwarts for at least the next two days, McGonagall and his parents had asked him to stay until Harry was able to leave. Ron hadn’t had to think about it—there had been a time not so long ago when he hadn’t been such a good friend to Harry—now was the time for him to step up and fulfill his best mate role. He knew Harry would do the same for him. And, as hurt as he was and as much as he missed Fred and would do so for the remainder of his life, Ron knew he would always have a large family to return home to. There was no family for Harry to go home to.

Thinking about all that he and Harry had been through over the six years they had spent in this very room brought out a small smile and Ron turned his head to look at the other beds, all but the one Harry occupied, empty. The bare mattresses reminded him—as if he needed such—that the Battle of Hogwarts had been fought the previous day. Most of the students had gone home, unsure if they would ever return. Harry and Ron were the only seventh years in the dorm room that five boys had shared for six years. It was eerie seeing the emptiness of the room and remembering how loud and alive it had been when filled with youthful exuberance that had no inkling of the misfortune that was to befall them and their beloved school.

Ron’s smile disappeared as he thought about how much had changed over the past seven years and, as if the frown he now wore were a signal, snippets of images from the nightmare he’d just woken from began to assault his memory. He squeezed his eyes shut to rid himself of the scenes, but to no avail. Why was this happening to him now? He was beyond exhausted and just wanted sleep. Hadn’t he been through enough the previous day?

All that he’d witnessed over the past twenty-four hours had been nothing short of the worst nightmare he had ever experienced, and he had thought it impossible for anything real or imagined to be worse than that, but now he knew differently. No, lives hadn’t been lost in his nightmare, nor had livelihoods been destroyed, and, in the larger scheme of things, Ron knew much worse had happened and could happen, but that didn’t minimize the horror of what Ron's nightmare had put him through. His mind was beginning to replay everything he had dreamt as if he were living it through not only his eyes, but those of others, and what had previously been horrid cloudy effigies while he was sleeping were now morphing into clear, concise terrifying images and Ron had the worst feeling that the unsettling events his mind continued to show him had actually happened to him. Where dreams usually left him within seconds of waking, this one was so very different in every way. 

But there was no possible way that what he had dreamt could have happened. He would remember. There was no way he would be able to forget someone forcing themselves on him and raping him. Ron swallowed. He didn’t want to believe such a thing could happen.

Regardless of whether it had happened or not didn’t change the fact that Ron’s every thought was of the nightmare. It was as if he were watching that Muggle thingy his father had recently acquired—a telly—and seeing the events of his dream replaying in his mind. He could feel and see and taste what was happening.

But then Ron sighed and forced himself to relax, knowing it was senseless to be worried about a silly dream. Dreams were just the mind playing tricks. He had been through more than most the previous day and that was bound to have done odd things to his subconscious. His thoughts had merely manifested themselves into a bizarre nightmare. That was all.

Ron closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, but a cough from Harry brought him out of his brief moment of respite. He turned towards Harry’s bed and watched his best mate coughing as he turned over in his sleep. A second later all was quiet again and Harry slept peacefully, as if he hadn't a care in the world. Ron envied him, but Harry deserved to look peaceful—he had been the one to help rid the world of Voldemort, even if the bastard formerly known as Tom Riddle had actually brought about his own sorry end. 

The past year had been tumultuous for so many reasons, but it was finally over. Things would be different now. The past seven years hadn’t been kind to Harry, but, hopefully, all his troubles were finally behind him. Of course, Ron knew it wouldn’t be easy. Harry had witnessed his godfather’s murder; his only family, who had never liked him, were now in hiding somewhere, probably far away, and the one person who could possibly have helped him understand more about his mother was dead, brought down by Voldemort’s snake.

That was perhaps what perplexed Ron the most. Not the snake, but Snape. The greasy git. Damn it all. He had ended up not being as bad as Ron had thought. Yes, he had been a complete bastard as a teacher, but Ron had to grudgingly admit that there had been good in the man and that Harry would have benefitted from being able to talk to Snape about his mother.

Hermione, who had left hours earlier to go retrieve her parents in Australia, had been so very sure that Snape would regain consciousness, but he hadn’t, and Hermione had been furious, telling Ron that Snape could have survived had he wanted to. She hadn’t understood why he’d not taken precautions. "There had to have been a potion he could have concocted to prevent snake venom from killing him," she had said, that familiar look of consternation on her face that meant there was a problem she didn’t understand.

Neither Harry nor he had understood why Hermione seemed so bothered by what had happened to Snape. Yes, it had been gory and bloody and tragic, but, it had been Snape, who had been a Death Eater, and he had been mortal, after all. He wasn’t a God or anything like that. It was always going to end badly for him, wasn’t it?

And it wasn’t as if he was the only one who could help. Harry had friends and he had Ginny. Both were better than Snape.

Ginny had been in love with Harry for as long as Ron could remember. Snape had hated Harry for his entire life. Weighing the two against one another, there really was no competition when it came to who would be better for Harry. While Snape might have been able to help Harry regarding his past, Ginny would help Harry from this moment forward—she would take care of him and get him through this, just as Harry would take care of Ginny as he had been doing since he rescued her from the chamber of secrets. 

As Ron’s thoughts took him back to his second year and as he remembered all that had happened, he began to tense and a feeling of dread overtook him. Ginny had experienced moments during her first year when she hadn't been aware of what she was doing or what was happening to her. 

Ron’s world closed in on him and it was as if he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.

Even as the two—Ginny’s being possessed and Ron’s nightmare—were completely different, Ron knew that just as Ginny had been forced to do things she was unaware of, the nightmare he had just awoken from hadn’t been a dream at all. It had been a memory of something that had actually happened. That was why it was so vivid to him. That was why he couldn’t rid himself of the images. Just because he hadn’t remembered didn’t mean that what he thought he'd dreamt hadn’t happened. There were ways to make a person forget.

He pulled the duvet to him, unable to stop the shivers that had taken over his body, and he turned his head towards the window, where he could see the stars in the sky, so very reminiscent of that other night after he had left in a fit of rage after he and Harry had fought. He had abandoned him and Hermione and had put himself at risk. He’d attempted to find his way back, but he hadn’t had any luck and had wandered aimlessly beneath a lonely star-filled night.

That is when his nightmare had begun.

Thinking back to that night, Ron now remembered waking up, disoriented. He hadn't recalled falling asleep and hadn't a clue why or what had happened, but a bump on his head had led him to believe he must have fallen and tripped over one of the many fallen tree stumps that littered the forest floor, hit his head, and lost consciousness. It had seemed feasible and he hadn’t any reason to believe anything other than that had happened. He had continued on his way and hadn't given his injuries further thought. Until now.

Ron was going to be sick.

He hadn't tripped at all, had he?

Bugger.

He shook his head and swallowed as fear welled up inside him, then, as he recalled a particular painful memory of what happened to him, he lowered the duvet and examined his legs, as if doing so would prove nothing had happened. A nauseous feeling overtook him when he noticed a large scar on his left thigh. 

He didn't recall having a scar there before that night, but, as if seeing the scar opened a portal into its origin, Ron could easily recall the moment he had received the excruciatingly painful gash in his leg, and he could see who had done it to him—Greyback. The bite had hurt worse than anything Ron had experienced up to that point, but there was more, and as another memory returned, this time with clarity, Ron couldn’t prevent a tear from falling.

Severus Snape had raped him.

“No.” Snape would have never done that to him. But Ron knew that he had. As fervently as he wished for all of these memories to be untrue, they had happened. He had been captured by Death Eaters. He had been beaten and injured. He had been raped. He had been put under a sex bond that could only be broken by death.

_Sex bond that could only be broken by death …_

Ron couldn't get enough air. He leant over the side of his bed and was sick, then he found his wand and banished the evidence that his stomach had rebelled at such mind-numbing news.

That he had been placed under a sex bond was jolting enough, and alone was enough to overwhelm Ron, but then the words that Hermione had spoken to him about Snape preventing his death came back to him. He shook his head, thinking it daft to even think such a thing. He wasn’t even sure why he would connect the two things, but could it be that Snape had made a potion, but hadn’t used it? Could he have allowed himself to die because he knew it would break the bond that he and Ron shared? 

Not that it mattered. So what if Snape had decided not to take the potion? If indeed that had been the way of it, it didn’t change that he had raped a student of his. It served Snape right to rot and for his skin to slowly be eaten away. If animals ripped him to shreds, that would be too good a burial for the bastard. 

And in less than a second, any good thoughts Ron had previously had towards his former professor evaporated. There was no excuse for what he had done. None.

None.

Ron forced the images to leave him; he thought about anything else he could to stop seeing his memories, and, thankfully, it worked, but he had an idea that the reprieve was only temporary. He then got out of bed as quietly as he could—he didn’t want to wake Harry—and donned his dressing gown and slippers, then left the seventh year dormitory. He had to see. He didn’t know what he was looking for—perhaps his sleep-deprived mind was playing tricks on him and he was on a foolhardy mission—but he needed to know if Hermione’s thoughts about Snape protecting himself against venom had merit. He wanted to know if it was because of him that Severus Snape had died. Had the man felt remorse? Ron doubted Snape had ever possessed the ability to feel such an emotion.

He walked as quietly as he could through the dark and lifeless corridors that were littered with the remains of battle, and tried his best not to think about what he’d witnessed happening in these very corridors not so many hours earlier. When he reached the entrance hall, he glanced towards the great hall and took a deep breath. Would he ever forget the frozen look on Fred's face? The smile that had been his brother's last? Not wishing to think about never hearing his brother speaking again, Ron quickly walked towards the scorched giant oak doors that would take him outdoors. He grabbed hold of the iron ring and pulled, briefly closing his eyes as a bout of nausea passed over him.

Once he stood atop the uppermost step, preparing to descend onto the school’s grounds, he could hear wind whipping through the trees in the forest, which contrasted drastically with the conditions from the previous morning. When Hagrid had carried Harry's limp body into Hogwarts, it had been unnaturally still, as if mourning were an act nature participated in.

Ron looked towards the brightening sky and watched as huge dark rain-filled clouds surrounded what remained of the once colossal and majestic castle. 

A storm was coming.

As Ron glanced at his surroundings, he shook his head, not wanting to believe that any of the events of the previous two days had taken place, but there was evidence of the damage everywhere. No bodies remained strewn across the battle-marked moors, but the heavy stench of death remained, and everywhere he looked, reminders of the night previous were obvious. Hagrid's hut was no more; only the stone steps remained, along with two large pumpkins—sentries that sat upon scorched earth that held Aragog's decaying body. The Whomping Willow was missing several limbs, and there was a large hole in the tree trunk that would lead to the Shrieking Shack. Ron stared at the entrance.

Birds far off were singing their songs, looking for mates, searching for a new home. Trees and moors swayed in anticipation of the coming storm. Life teemed all around him. 

As he made his way towards the Whomping Willow, Ron felt as if all the life in him was ebbing away, and he wished for that to happen. He didn't want to face what had happened. The memories were now back, and they were coming faster and clearer and were making him mental. He tried to push them away again, but he knew that to be as futile as his wishing Fred was asleep at the Burrow, hours away from awaking and continuing his life for the next seventy or eighty years.

Perhaps it was a futile wish, but it didn’t prevent Ron from wondering why he had been put through any of these horrific experiences this past year. He shook his head, wishing to forget, even as he gave in and allowed the memories to take him back several months.

**December 1997**

Pop.

Apparition had never been a mode of transportation Ron looked forward to; he was rubbish at it. The process of destination, determination and deliberation might as well have been deviation, destruction and devastation for all the good the three d's did the youngest Weasley son. 

Nevertheless, with the exception of almost dying when escaping Yaxley, Ron had managed well enough. Thus, when he heard a loud bang and felt something large and hard hit his head as he was in the act of Apparating home, he knew something must have gone terribly wrong. 

He panicked and lost consciousness. 

When he opened his eyes, he wished he hadn't. His head felt as if he'd been hit with a stone, and as if that weren't enough to be going on with, four figures were stood over him, their features indiscernible because of the brightness of the morning sun (Ron knew he must have been out for several hours if it was already mid-morning the following day) shining down on them. Four wands were pointed at him. 

What a fine mess this was. 

He opened his mouth to protest, but found he couldn't speak. There was laughter. It seemed to go on for a long while. Ron stared at his captors, attempting to look formidable. He knew he wasn’t succeeding. 

This was bad. 

This was very bad. 

In the next second, Ron was jerked to a standing position and someone yelled to him that he should do as he was told if he wanted to live. 

One of his four captors confiscated his wand without much of a fight, and then Ron was half-dragged, half-carried for what seemed like hours. Then, without warning, he was dropped onto the hard ground. His mouth was then pried open and a foul smelling and tasting liquid was forced down his throat. He once again lost consciousness. 

"Where am I?" he asked when he regained consciousness, his throat raw. 

"Are you hurt young man?" called out a voice Ron vaguely recognized. 

"Who are you?" Ron asked, his voice strained. He tried to turn his head, but found he was unable to. Come to think of it, he couldn't feel his legs or arms. Had he been hurt? 

"It's Mr. Ollivander. The wandmaker. Who are you?" 

Mr Ollivander had been taken over a year previous, and it was a foregone conclusion that Death Eaters had been responsible. "I’m Ro—" but he ceased speaking when a door at the far end of the room opened. Seconds later footsteps neared him, then the distinct sound of a lock being opened. Ron's breathing sped up. Then he heard a voice speaking, raspy and low. 

"Here he is, Greyback," the raspy voice said, laughter in his every word. "A rather scrawny specimen if you ask me. You could do better, and you should. As I've already told you, the Dark Lord will not be pleased with you taking the boy. He said anyone of us could have fun with our prisoners, but he said that only Malfoy, Snape, and he can inflict bodily harm upon them." 

"I'll take my chances,” Greyback replied, snarling and grunting. His voice was terrifying. “The Dark Lord owes me. As I's sees it, he should r'ward me good for what I did to that other Weasley boy. This ‘ere Weasley boy will do fine. You ‘ave other duties. Leave me. You can’t tell what you don’ know." 

Ron swallowed as he heard the door opening and closing; this had the potential to be very bad, and that just might be the understatement of his life thus far. He then began to panic when he heard someone nearing him. His arm was yanked and he was pulled to a standing position. He knew what Greyback did to his victims. It would be a gruesome death. He shivered uncontrollably. 

Why oh why had he left Harry and Hermione? When would he ever learn that his jealousy and temper had never got him anywhere good? 

"You're comin' with me, boy," Greyback said. 

His foul breath bathed Ron's face. It was putrid and smelled of blood. Ron very nearly sicked-up, but he forced himself not to as he began to struggle. Fortunately, he now had full use of his extremities, so he fought as valiantly as he could, which, to his horror, wasn't very much. He was too weak to fight the man/half-creature/werewolf or whatever the bastard was. He did what he could, but jaws and teeth were too much for Ron’s thigh and body, and he again lost consciousness. 

When he next woke, he was shackled to a wall by his hands and feet, probably five feet above the stone floor, naked, bleeding, and in excruciating pain. A gaping hole in his left thigh throbbed. He again lost consciousness. 

He next woke to shouting. 

"You were told, Greyback, that only the Dark Lord, Lucius, or I were to inflict harm on the boy, were you not?" shouted a menacing Severus Snape as he towered over a hovering figure on the floor, which must have been Greyback. “The Dark Lord has told us not to bother him unless we have Potter. He cannot be fussed about this boy. If you continue to go against his wishes, however, I can assure you that the Dark Lord will make his presence known and he will not be pleased." 

Ron must have made a noise, because Snape turned and sneered at him. Ron attempted to return the obvious slight, but he couldn’t and guessed it was a feat in itself that he was still in the land of the living. He had never wished for death, but now he did, and it couldn’t come quickly enough. He continued to stare at his former professor, daring him to speak, and even though he couldn’t glare, in his mind he was doing that and so much more, curious what Snape would do. He worked for the Order, so he had an obligation to get Ron out of this situation. 

But the reality of the situation returned and Ron had an idea that there wasn’t much Snape could do while others were watching. But there would be a time when they would be alone. Then Snape could do something; he would send him away. Ron had to believe that. “Help me,” he said in his mind as he continued to stare into the eyes of Snape, whose face seemed to be changing with each passing second. Where he had been sneering earlier, now he looked worried, but then as Greyback made a noise, the worried expression was replaced with anger. 

"Rest assured, Mister Weasley, I shall deal with you very soon," Snape said in a hate-filled voice before returning his attention to the figure of Greyback. "I want you to return to your rooms, and do not let me hear a sound out of you. If I do, I cannot be responsible for my actions. It is time someone put you in your place." 

Greyback glanced over at Ron before he returned his attention to Snape. "Surely you understand that this boy called out to me, Severus. How could you expect me to get a taste of his brother and then be tempted with this young and fresh specimen, but not get a taste of him? You, of all people should understand. You never did get a taste of that Mudblood Potter lady, did you?" 

Ron sicked-up as he waited for Snape's response. The vomit fell on his bare body, the smell enough to make him sick two times more. Then he watched Snape as he pondered his response to Greyback. He opened his mouth, but then Lucius Malfoy entered the room and motioned for Snape to join him. Ron feared the two would leave him alone with Greyback, but they spoke quietly where they stood, then Draco’s father left, but not before glancing up at Ron and smiling wickedly. 

"I will deny you, Greyback," Snape continued as he walked back towards Greyback, "because Ronald Weasley has been reserved for me. So, I will take him, and if you know what is good for you, you will not put up a fight. You. Will. Not. Win," Snape snarled. 

Next thing a frightened Ron knew, Snape was dragging him out of the cell. Everything went dark. 

The next time he regained consciousness, Ron was lying in a large bed, still naked, but no longer in excruciating pain. There was a dull ache throughout his body and he felt sluggish, therefore, he was fairly certain he had been drugged. He turned his head and watched as Snape, who was seated on the bed, applied a salve to the open wounds that Greyback had inflicted. He didn't look happy, but neither did he look menacing as he had the previous time Ron had seen him. In fact, he looked rather bored, and when their eyes met, Ron thought he sensed resignation, a look he couldn’t recall ever seeing on his former professor; it was very un-Snapelike. “Are you going to help me escape, Professor?” he asked, his voice meek. 

"You imbecilic boy,” Snape replied, his voice harsh and his black eyes menacing. “Do you have any idea what you have done? Do you know the danger you are in? Do you know what I am going to have to do to you?" Snape’s voice became louder with each word. Then he pointed his wand at Ron and whispered a few words. 

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but found himself again unable to speak. 

Snape finished rubbing in the salve on the deep leg wound, then placed the phial on the bedside table. "Lucius Malfoy has ordered me to punish you," spat out Snape as he turned back towards Ron. "I do not normally take orders from the fallen, and Draco Malfoy’s father has fallen about as low as anyone can fall, but if I do not do as he asks, I risk him ruining everything I have been working for. He is suspicious of my motives, so I must walk a very fine line with him. So you, Mister Weasley, are the price for that to happen. I do hope it teaches you to control your temper in future. I daresay you would much rather be in the company of Mister Potter and Miss Granger than be here, about to have your body abused by your most hated professor." The vitriol rolling off Snape was palpable. 

Ron mouthed, "What is my punishment?" Was Snape going to beat him, hang him from manacles? Filch had said it was a shame that the old punishments were no longer allowed. 

Snape sneered as he stood and lifted his robes and removed his pants. "Foolish boy, the only way I could possibly have rescued you from being torn to shreds by that vile creature as Lucius looked on was if I said I already had some rather lurid plans for you. As difficult as it might be for you to understand, your yearmate’s father enjoys the shows Greyback gives him and was so looking forward to your imminent death at the creature’s hands. It is fortunate for you, Mister Weasley, that the only thing Lucius craves more than watching victims bleed and scream as they die is watching me soil and degrade myself. What do you think I had to promise?" Snape spat out as he took his large cock in hand and stroked it a few times as he looked into Ron’s eyes. 

Ron's eyes bulged, he shook his head, and his breathing sped up. He thought he might be sick again. “No,” he mouthed. Snape couldn't do this. He was a teacher. Hell, he was now the Headmaster. He was meant to help him escape. Not rape him. 

"No? You don't know, or no, you don't want to believe I would do such a thing? How very idealistic you are, Mister Weasley. Perhaps after I fuck you, you'll have lost some of that innocence that almost got you ripped to pieces." 

Ron, his eyes wide with fright, didn't know what to do. This couldn't happen. He backed up against the head of the bed, but he knew that would do him no good. 

The door opened and in walked Lucius Malfoy, looking as arrogant as ever. He looked at Snape, then at Ron. "Have you ever been fucked by anyone, Mister Weasley?" 

Ron didn't answer, but, as if he had been ordered to do so, he shook his head as he watched through his peripheral vision as Snape’s wand pointed at him. Ron coughed. Then he opened his mouth, unsure if sound would come out. 'I—I've penetrated a g—girl," was his forced reply as his eyes travelled to Snape, who was looking down at his cock that didn’t look like it was anywhere near ready to stick itself in anything. But Ron knew that wouldn’t prevent it from doing so. 

“Not to worry, Mister Weasley,” Lucius said as he noticed the boy looking at Snape’s flaccid cock. “Snape always gets into the mood when it counts, and knowing that no one has fucked that delicious young arse of yours should help him; he so loves the young and innocent,” he added with a laugh as his head turned towards Snape’s pink cock. He sneered. "I do believe we will do this one differently, Severus. Potter’s best mate being fucked by his headmaster is worthy of a public viewing; I think you would agree. I know you were hoping to do this in private, but I wish for others to watch and see what pleasures our most loyal Death Eaters are allowed to partake in. It will give them incentive to be obedient, and I daresay it will remind you that no one ever ascends so high in the ranks that they are immune from our most heinous punishments. The Dark Lord coddles you far too much, Severus. There is nothing we can do about that when he is present, but as you see, he is not here at the moment, is he?” 

Snape sneered, but he said nothing. 

“Well, is he?” repeated Lucius. 

“No, he is not,” Snape said, in a whisper, seething. 

Lucius grinned and let out a mirthless laugh. “Snape, do us all a favor and pull up your pants and lower your robes—we don’t wish to see your limp pink girly cock until you are about to penetrate Mister Weasley and take his virginity. Bring him out to the main room in ten minutes, Snape, and I want a good show." Then he was gone, the large door slamming shut. 

Ron screamed, but his voice was again silenced. 

Snape stared at the closed door. He hadn’t a choice. He had to do this. It didn’t matter that he loathed the thought of raping this boy (No matter what Lucius had said, Snape didn’t like taking youthful innocents against their will). “If you resist, Mister Weasley, the pain will be much worse. If you give in and allow me to do this, everything will end as it should, and neither you nor I will be hurt. Resist and you risk not only your life, but mine. I am not a man who asks for much these days, but I do plan to keep the promise I made to Albus Dumbledore before he died, and you will not ruin this for me. Understood?" Only then did he turn and look at the frightened eighteen-year-old, who looked as if he were about to cry. Snape wouldn’t blame him if he did. 

Ron nodded. What else could he do? Snape was about to rape the son of one of his fellow Order members. Perhaps he really didn’t have a choice and was doing this because he had been told to, but whatever the reason, it was too much to take in. Ron didn’t want to think. He wanted to fall into blissful oblivion. Somehow, he knew that wouldn’t happen. He turned away from Snape and willed himself not to cry. 

"I didn't hear your answer. What will it be, Mister Weasley?" Snape asked, pointing his wand at Ron and whispering words that would allow him to speak. "Are you going to comply with my demands, or are you going to make this more difficult than it need be? You can ignore me. You can hate me. You can curse me under your breath, Mister Weasley. It matters little what you do, say, or want at this point. It is the same for me, boy, don't you realise that? And if you are still thinking of resisting and making this worse for yourself, let me give you another reason for you to allow this to unfold: your family. The Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters may not know where Mister Potter and Miss Granger are—it seems that you are a more loyal friend than anyone imagined—not even the most advanced memory charms revealed their whereabouts—but they do know where your family resides. All it would take is one wrong move on your part, and it is goodbye to your mother, father, brothers, and sister. Do not doubt that. Now, what will it be?" 

What choice did he have? Ron turned his head back towards Snape and looked into his sneering face. "Do what you have to do. Take me, rape me, do whatever you have to do, Snape, but leave my family alone!" Ron shouted, his voice shrill. 

Ten minutes later, a shivering and naked Ron lay on a dais in the center of a large room. He tried to prepare himself for what was to come, but there was no way he would ever be ready. The stone beneath him, cold and hard, was what he concentrated on, but he could hear the murmurs of several Death Eaters standing around the perimeter of the room. He couldn’t believe he was about to be raped and all these people were going to watch. 

His legs were spread apart and his arms were placed above his head, secured by a rope and tied together. The ropes were too tight, but Ron knew complaining would only garner him a harsher punishment. He had never felt so exposed. He closed his eyes and squeezed them, but he would not cry. Truth be told, he could hardly do or think anything. It was as if his mind were a blank slate. Black surrounded him. 

"Remove those robes, Severus. I want to see as you fuck Weasley. I've had others tell me that you pretend—that you don’t actually do any fucking. I want to see that cock of yours as it breaks through Weasley’s pucker,” Lucius Malfoy said, then he let out a chuckle. "Remember, Severus, I do so love a show where it ends in the oh so unfortunate death of our victims. If you don't wish to see the boy ripped to shreds by Greyback, you best do as you are told." 

Ron’s breathing sped up. He attempted to struggle, but Snape had secured him well and there was very little give in the ropes that held him in place. He was truly terrified now. Not that he hadn't already been, but now he was so far beyond scared that he thought he might die just from the fright. But he doubted that would be allowed to happen. He opened his mouth, but shut it when he heard Snape say something beneath his breath about Lucius. He wondered what he had said, but any thought of that was forgotten when his legs were lifted and he felt as Snape positioned himself to penetrate Ron's arse. Next, his legs were lowered to rest on Snape's shoulders. Snape's body was clammy and warm as his cock rubbed against Ron's entrance; it was the only warmth in the room, but Ron would rather freeze to death than feel the warmth of Snape’s privates pressing against him. But at least they weren’t inside him … yet. 

"Shall I prepare him or not?" asked Snape. “If you wish to enjoy this, Lucius, you'll want it to be pleasurable for both the boy and me. Slamming into a dry arse is hardly pleasurable,” Snape added, his face not too far from Ron, his long, greasy hair that framed his face brushing against Ron’s chest. 

Ron opened his eyes and saw a pensive look on Snape's face, but it turned to anger again when he realised Ron was looking at him. 

"Sorry," Ron mouthed, trying to remember that Snape had no choice but to do this. At least that is what he forced himself to think. He couldn’t afford to think anything other than that. 

"Shut your mouth, boy. You’re going to get what you deserve," growled out Snape, but he was screaming inside. He didn’t want to rape this boy. He would rather die than do this. He could read the boy’s mind and he knew how frightened he was. He wanted so very much to reassure his former student (that really was still under his charge) that if he would just let this happen, he would get out of here safely. But there was no way for Severus to convey any of that. He would just have to hope that Weasley wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his continued existence. 

Lucius let out a sinister laugh. "You will not use any lubrication, Severus. Weasley's pleasure is not a concern of mine, and neither is yours. My pleasure is all that matters," he said as he sat down before the dais, lifted his robes, lowered his pants and spread his legs. He never took his eyes off of Snape as he reached down and took his engorged cock in hand and began stroking it. “Get on with it. If I come before you and the boy, I will be most disappointed.” 

Ron turned his head, feeling nauseated at the sight of Draco Malfoy’s father tossing off whilst watching one of his son’s yearmates being fucked against his will. It was unforgivable and Ron had never hated anyone more than he hated Lucius Malfoy. Not wanting to think about Lucius, Ron forced himself to watch as Snape placed his cock even with the entrance that was about to be stretched to its limits. Ron didn’t want to see any of this, but he refused to look away. He wanted Snape to know that he was aware of every little thing he did to his student. 

His breathing sped up as he thought about how much it was going to hurt, and he began mouthing no over and over as he stared into the eyes of Snape. Then Snape grunted as he breached him with the tip of his cock, his black eyes and his expression unchanging as he stopped for a moment to supposedly allow Ron to relax, but Ron inwardly laughed at the thought. This experience was anything but relaxing. It hurt. Not an unbearable hurt, but more of a mental and emotional anguish than anything physical. Ron had experimented with his fingers, thus he was somewhat familiar with what breaching himself felt like, but it still hurt. 

The next push from Snape, however, sent white stars before Ron's eyes, and the pain increased a thousand times. His insides were in the process of being ripped apart and he wondered when it would stop. At some point the pushing would have to stop. He hoped. He screamed when the pain became too much. "Why are you doing this to me?" he cried out. 

Once Snape was completely inside Ron, he pulled out and slammed back in. He did this several more times, ignoring the mental screams and pleas to stop, then he began speaking softly, but his voice was sharp and menacing. "Because I have no choice you moronic, spoilt child," Snape said as he lifted out and slammed back into Ron again. He knew that Weasley had no idea how much this was costing him; it was, without doubt, his second worst experience. Yes, he had done many vile things whilst in the service of the Dark Lord, but he had never had to force himself on one of his students. Fucking a student was a new low for him. "Do you think I am enjoying this, Mister Weasley? Do you think I like fucking eighteen-year-old little boys? I do not. But, as I have no alternative, I do as I am told.” Snape’s face was filled with rage as he pulled out of the small arse hole. He waited several seconds then slammed into the boy with much more force than the previous thrusts. “You would do well to do the same. Now I suggest you shut that mouth of yours unless you want to get the both of us in trouble." 

But it was too late. 

"Are you talking to the boy, Severus?” Lucius asked, his voice mocking and condescending as he continued to fondle himself. Pre-come was oozing out of the tip of his cock and his face was flushed. “I thought you understood the rules, Severus. You are aware that there is no talking whilst fucking; the Dark Lord is the one who made that rule, so do not act as if you were unaware of it. You are very brave, my friend, and might I add puerile? To flout the Dark Lord is immature and a grievous breach,” he added and, as he watched Ron Weasley turn to look at him, he removed his come-covered hand from his cock and sensually licked each finger, looking at the boy the entire time, “that must be punished." 

Ron then watched as a white mist descended and enveloped him and Snape, and then he heard Snape gasp. When Ron looked back at him, he could see that Snape looked terrified. Ron mouthed, "What happened?" 

Snape pulled out of Ron, slammed in once more, reached up with his free hand and twisted one of Ron’s sore nipples, then let it go. Next he stood, backed away from the dais, pulled his pants up, let his robes drop, and left the room, not saying a word. 

Ron, his arse and legs covered with blood and other things, didn’t know what to do, but as he was secured to the dais, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Why had Snape stopped before he had finished? Ron was more than a bit relieved, but something was wrong, and Draco’s father looked entirely too happy. 

“It seems Severus was unable to finish. Normally, he would be punished, but under the circumstances I will forgive him. But we can’t leave you a virgin, can we? That would never do. I will finish what he started. Then you will be taken back to your cell. Snape will join you in an hour. The fun is just beginning for you, boy.” 

Ron, feeling nauseous and as if he might pass out, watched Lucius stand, his cock jutting out, bobbing against his chest, looking ready to explode as he neared the dais. Ron's arse was on fire and the thought of Lucius Malfoy putting his cock inside him made Ron sick, but rather than suffer Lucius’s consequences, he forced himself to swallow the contents that had found their way to his mouth. It was vile, but he knew it would have been much worse to have shown Lucius how ill he was. As it was, he knew that swallowing his sick wasn’t as bad as what was to come. 

It had been beyond terrifying with Snape, but the sight of Lucius Malfoy lowering himself, and the sight of that thick cock … and the feeling of it as it breached him, well, it was more than Ron could take and he shed a tear. "Please don't,” he mouthed, but he knew his pleas would do no good. 

A gruff voice interrupted Ron's plea. "Come for me and it'll be over. Believe it or not, I, like Snape, do not get off by fucking little boys. I prefer my men to be more seasoned. Now, I am guessing you have had an orgasm, so let's have another and get this over with," were Lucius Malfoy's calculated words, neither angry nor pleasant. "Your orgasm will pull mine from me. I am already hard—you and Snape were putting on quite the show—so it shan’t take me long, I'll fill your arse, and then we can leave. Understood?" 

Ron could do nothing other than stare at his assailant in disbelief. Was he serious? Was Ron really expected to orgasm? Hell, he’d had a difficult enough time as it was to get it up for Lavender. He had only experienced one orgasm with her and that was because she had been sucking the life out of his cock at the time. When wanking, he had had partial orgasms, but nothing too powerful. So how was he to have one now, with evil, foul, Lucius Malfoy? 

But Ron would try. If he wanted to live, he knew he more than likely hadn’t a choice. When Lucius was completely inside him, Ron tried to prepare himself for the intense pain, but as it had been with Snape, no amount of mental preparation could make one ready for having someone else slam into them with all their might. Ron saw stars and really did think he was going to pass out, but whispered words from above had him becoming overly aware of every little movement and each sound, and he realised he could again speak if he wanted to. It was as if Snape and Lucius were having fun taking away his voice and then giving it back to him. Ron squeezed his eyes shut and felt as one of his nipples was sucked into a wet and warm mouth. A tongue laved it and then bit it. Ron let out a scream, but he was unsurprised when his voice again went silent. 

“Scream all you want little friend of Harry Potter. This is happening,” Lucius said as he let go of the one nipple and took the other into his mouth. 

Several minutes later, Lucius Malfoy finally spilled himself inside Ron’s sore arse and withdrew without having brought Ron to orgasm. He slapped the boy across the face. “You should be very thankful I am in a forgiving mood today, Mister Weasley. I rarely allow anyone to escape without an orgasm, but you'll soon have your former professor’s cock up your arse again and I am most confident that he will be able to pull an orgasm from a pretty little school boy like you," he said with a chuckle as he stood and tucked himself in. “I might have already said this, but schoolboys are Severus’s specialty.” 

After Lucius left, two Death Eaters approached the dais and began touching and breaching a terrified Ron with their fingers. He tried to scream, but his voice was still silenced. He then felt as something sharp was inserted inside him. They were going to kill him. He could only hope it would be quick. Whatever it was they had put inside him was turned and he felt full. Then it was pushed further and he felt something give way inside him. He screamed a silent scream and again pleaded for death. Then there was blood everywhere. Then there was shouting and green light and Ron lost consciousness. 

When he next woke, he hurt. All over. He sat up as carefully as he could and reached down to feel his arse. He let out a scream, this one very audible. He withdrew his shaking hand and saw that it was covered in blood. He couldn’t take much more of this. And the worst part was that he knew it wasn't over. Snape would soon join him. What about Draco’s father? And the others? He thought some of them had been killed, but would there be others? Ron began to lose control and he cried as he hadn't cried in a very long while. He wanted to die. 

As he'd been told, Snape returned, and it took very little time before he was inside Ron and, for the first several seconds. it was beyond the worst pain he had ever felt, but then the sharp pains turned to a dull ache and Snape looked into his eyes and told him that it would be easier now. Ron tried to nod, but he was shaking so badly that he couldn’t do anything. Finally, he felt steady enough to speak, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be allowed to. Snape seemed to prefer him silent. "Why are you doing this to me again?" he asked. 

For five minutes more, the only sound was grunting as Snape continued to fuck Ron's arse, then he stilled and closed his eyes as his body convulsed. Ron still hadn’t orgasmed, but as Snape was in the midst of his, Ron couldn't believe that anyone could do so silently. It was unsettling that Snape had got off raping his student. Ron felt a surge of anger, and as the ejaculate dribbled down his arse, he felt another wave of nausea overtake him and was unable to prevent his sick from coming up this time. He managed to lift his head somewhat so he wouldn’t choke, then he was sick all over his chest and watched as it dribbled down his body. The smell was rancid. 

When Snape’s breathing returned to normal, he pulled out, sat up, and banished the sick and cleaned himself and Ron with two flicks of his wand. He then stood and picked up his discarded robes, but didn't dress himself as he looked despondently at Ron. "Malfoy has placed you and me under a sex bond—the strongest one there is. Whilst the bond is stabilizing, we will need to have sex daily. If we are fortunate, in two years we will be able to go three weeks without. This will be our fate until one of us dies," Snape said before he donned his robes and turned to leave, but then he turned back and let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Unfortunately, my duties as headmaster require my presence at Hogwarts this evening, and I will be busy in meetings for the next several days, which will make it impossible for me to satisfy the bond. To remedy this, I will need to come in here on the hour for the next several hours. I have no idea if it will satisfy the bond but it is the only choice we have.” Snape then turned and left, slamming the door behind him. 

Ron was paralyzed with fear. What? No. He and Snape? For life? Sex? No. 

If only he hadn't left Harry and Hermione. 

But he had. And now he had been sentenced to a life of being fucked by Snape. 

It was worse than death. 

Ron squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think about Hermione; it was a better alternative to waiting for his next fucking. What was she doing at this very moment? But that question had an easy answer. He knew she was probably angry at him, wondering why he had to act like such a fool and let his anger and jealousy get the better of him. Ron wasn’t sure he’d ever see Hermione again, but, if he did, he vowed to never again let his immaturity get the best of him. He had learned his lesson. Or, so he hoped. 

Exhausted, Ron closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off to sleep, where he dreamt of Hermione and him making love. It was a beautiful dream … until Snape woke him. Ron blinked a few times, but didn't move from the position he was in on the floor. Snape would surely tell him to turn over any second. 

"Turn over. I never fuck from behind. It is rude. I want to see your eyes when my cock buries itself inside your arse." 

Ron did as he was told. He was cold inside. He felt dead. He spread his legs, and when Snape was in between them, Ron lowered them over the bony, thin shoulders. He wanted this to be over with. 

Snape began to slide in, but when Ron made a pained noise, Snape stopped, sat up, and found his robes. He withdrew a phial. He coated his fingers and began preparing Ron. 

The lube made it much easier, but rape was rape, and rape was what was being done to him. Ron closed his eyes and willed himself to die. The fucking no longer physically hurt, but his spirit was hurt and would never be the same. 

_I'm sorry, Hermione and Harry_ , was the thought Ron kept repeating to himself as he felt Snape fuck him over and over. 

Snape orgasmed and left without a word. 

An hour later, Ron was awakened and fucked again. 

Six times more he was fucked on the hour, and each time Ron seemed to give up a little more. His life was no longer his, but, at least he had the satisfaction of knowing neither Snape nor Lucius had pulled an orgasm from him. It was a small victory in this horrific battle, but it was a win for him and he needed a win amid all the loss. 

After the tenth time Ron’s body was raped, Snape dressed then threw Ron his clothes. “Dress quickly. It is time for you to go. You will go to your family. Follow me." 

Ron looked up and glared at Snape. “You must think me mental if you believe I’m going to where my parents are, Snape,” Ron said, barely able to speak through his chattering teeth and shaking body. 

“I will find you, Mister Weasley, no matter where you go,” Snape said as he walked up to Ron, took his chin in hand, and forced Ron to look into his eyes. “There is only one way for this bond to be broken, Mister Weasley, and that is death. For my part, I have no plans to go anywhere. I have a duty to perform and I plan on spending my remaining years repaying the debt I owe Albus Dumbledore. If you find it too cumbersome to have me fuck your little arse day after day, however, by all means, do something about it. It certainly would make my life much easier.” 

Ron remained silent, but he was seething inside. How could Snape be so vindictive? He had told Ron he had no choice, so why was he acting so mean now? 

They exited the stone building and Snape directed a bewildered Ron to stand on a small cement block and pointed his wand at him and said several words that Ron had never heard before. Ron glanced around and thought it looked very much the same as it had when this horrific ordeal had begun. Then he felt the familiar pull. 

**02 May 1998**  


There was more, but Ron was able to force himself to return to the present; he didn’t want to relive anymore of the nightmare. He knew what was next: Snape fucking him on the beach near Shell Cottage, in the tall growth that surrounded the cottage, in the shrieking shack, in Snape’s office, in his bed, on the table in the kitchen where the house-elves prepared the food, back at Shell Cottage, the night Ron had rescued a drowning Harry, then finally the day previous, and this one had been the most painful, because both he and Snape had been in such desperate need of one another. Snape hadn’t been able to control his actions. Fortunately, Ron bore no scars from that final encounter—any wounds and aches, as all the previous ones before them had been, were healed and his mind had been somehow altered.

Ron was more thankful than he thought possible that Snape had seemingly Obliviated him after each time. It had been a small mercy and it was too bad that he now remembered everything. He would have been happy to never have remembered.

Another bout of nausea overcame him and he bent over and was sick. He stood there, holding his stomach, feeling weak and exhausted, and once he had emptied his stomach, he slumped down to the ground and sat there, staring ahead at nothing. It was all so very horrid and unbelievable that any of this had happened, but the image that now repeated itself in Ron’s memory was of Snape’s expressions and thoughts as he had raped a student of his. He hadn’t wanted any of this any more than Ron had. 

Several minutes later he forced himself to get up; he needed to get to the Shrieking Shack. He wrapped his arms around his body and shivered as he neared the Whomping Willow. As much as he hated what Snape had done to him, each step he took filled him with dread that he wished he didn’t feel. The former him—the selfish, jealous, and impatient person he had been before that night (or, more accurately, before he had remembered what happened that night) had changed him—would be grinning, thinking that death was no less than the bastard deserved, but the thing that Ron now understood about himself was that the fear and pain he had suffered at the hands of Greyback, Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape had made him less inclined to wish ill on anyone else, even the person who had inflicted such immense emotional and physical pain on him that would never completely leave. 

Ten minutes later, Ron knelt in front of Severus Snape's body. It was sad that the lifeless body remained where it had fallen—all the others had been relocated and were safely within the school’s walls—but at least someone had placed a preserving charm on Snape’s pale, cold body, so decomposition wouldn't begin. Ron wondered who had done it, but it really didn't matter. Snape was dead.

As much as Ron wanted to believe this death to have been a true murder, he had his doubts, because Snape was many things, but naïve was not one of them. Hermione was right—their teacher, who had been an accomplished potions master, would have been prepared. His sense of obligation to making himself worthy of Dumbledore’s second chance would have forced Snape to do whatever possible to ensure his safety if it were at all possible.

Ron took a deep breath and reached over to find the pocket inside Snape's robes. It was empty. Ron sighed, but then he looked for the other. He found it and when he reached inside his hand felt what he imagined to be two phials and a piece of parchment. He retrieved the items and looked at them. He had no idea what was inside the phials, but he knew that whatever it was would have saved the life of Severus Snape. He knew this just as he knew that he and Hermione would one day be married.

Setting the two phials on the ground beside Snape's wand, Ron opened the sheet of parchment that had been with the phials.

_"If I am not mistaken, this will be found by the one person who most needs to find it. You are free. Please do not waste your freedom. I was never free. My punishment was life for the first thirty-six years, but now, in the final two, I am finding out that my punishment is death. It is sad that it took me all these many years to realise what a miracle I had been given—what a gift I had been bestowed with. Second chances are rare. It could have been so very different, but then you came along and I had to pay for all the wrongs I had ever done. I had to do unspeakable things to you. I do not ask your forgiveness, but I do give you your freedom. I worked tirelessly for months to assure myself a life after Voldemort, but how could I go through with my plans when I knew you would continue to be my victim? Some would say I was also a victim in this unfortunate occurrence, but I gave up the right to be a victim a long time ago. You deserve a life with the one you love. I never had the opportunity to be with the one I loved. Please take my gift to you and never forget what it cost.  
SS _

Ron sat there, staring at the body of Severus Snape for a long while.

Severus Snape had lived to help Harry Potter.

He had died to help Ron Weasley.

It was over. There would be no more rapes—no more being pushed into groves and no more being pulled into dark places. Ron’s life of continuous sex with a person he hadn’t been able to stand for six years had come to an end. Ron was so very relieved. He was finally free. 

In reality, however, Ron knew that he would never truly be free. No matter how badly he had been treated and no matter that what Snape had done to him was so very wrong, Ron knew he would always feel responsible for Snape’s death and he would regret that the man who could have helped Harry was no longer alive to do so. 

With every fibre of his being, Ron wished Severus Snape were still alive.

He retrieved the phials, put them in the pocket of his dressing gown and returned to Gryffindor tower, where Harry still slept. Ron quietly walked past Harry’s bed and sat down on his. Next he removed his slippers and dressing gown, then crawled under the duvet and closed his eyes, begging for peaceful sleep to claim him. He knew there was the possibility that he would again dream of the rapes, which frightened him, and that he might scream out in his sleep and wake Harry, but he was tired. So very tired. And if he did wake Harry and if Harry asked him about his dreams? Ron would shake his head, frown sadly, and say he missed Fred. 


End file.
